


with raindrops clinging to your eyelashes

by asteronomic



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cats, Coffee, Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Rain, dorks being awkward, idk what this is i wrote it at 4:00am, pretentious and gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asteronomic/pseuds/asteronomic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shintarou Midorima throws him a small, black umbrella. He blinks. Once, twice. He has an umbrella in his hand and Midorima is searching for his keys. Unlocking his door. Stepping inside. “T-thank you.”</p><p>Shintarou turns, pushes his glasses up his nose. “No problem,” he says. “I don’t want to catch a cold from you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	with raindrops clinging to your eyelashes

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [luvpanda1996](https://m.fanfiction.net/u/6067085/) on ff.net for translating this [into polish!](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11653459/1/With-raindrops-clinging-to-your-eyelashes)

The first time they meet, they hate each other.

It’s not really a surprise. They’re neighbours; one lives in the flat in the basement, and the other takes the ground floor. One comes in late at night, the other has to leave early in the morning. One has a kitten, the other is allergic to cats. One detests classical music, the other plays Mozart at eight a.m. on a Sunday morning.

In the beginning, they try their best to avoid each other. They don’t see each other often, anyway--being students of completely different subjects, with different work hours and different interests, they rarely manage to cross paths despite their proximity. However, the eyes of well-meaning strangers widen when they hear that they’re both new to London, both a long way from home, and both speaking in an unfamiliar tongue--“Kazunari, have you met Shintarou?” they ask, all smiles and good intentions. “He’s studying abroad, too! And you’re neighbours? What a coincidence! You go to the same university, too! How nice!”

Kazunari grits his teeth and forces a pleasant smile as he says, “Oh, really? That’s interesting!” and excuses himself, trying not to punch the green-haired bastard. _Who even dyes their hair green, anyway? Was he aiming for blond? Did he fuck up? He fucked up, didn’t he?_ He entertains himself with thoughts of letting Tetsurou, his kitten, into the apartment above, and smiles at the idea of Midorima sneezing uncontrollably as the little black cat blinks innocently up at him.

Not that he’d ever do such a thing to his poor kitten.

In any case, his hatred for his neighbour doesn’t decrease in the slightest as time passes. In fact, the more he gets to know Shintarou Midorima, the more he detests him--the way he looks past Kazunari as if he’s not worthy of his attention, the way he practices the piano in the morning on weekends, the way he seems to smirk at Kazunari’s preferred mode of transport (a battered old bicycle that is well-acquainted with London traffic), the way he’s always in Costa when Kazunari’s in Costa, sipping coffee and flicking through a stack of notes on God knows what. 

Everything about Midorima pisses Kazunari off. He’s never been one to judge quickly, but he makes a special exception for such self-righteous arseholes. Honestly, he’s never met anyone more infuriating in his entire life.

His friends tell him he’s overreacting. “He’s not that bad, Kazu,” they tell him. “Honestly mate, he’s pretty nice once you get to know him. A little pretentious, but so is everyone around here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He had noticed. It was the first thing Kazunari noticed about this part of London, with its fancy stone and upper-class drawl. The second thing he noticed, however, was how much more pretentious his neighbour is, and how unsympathetic his new friends are. At least Tetsurou listens to him.

_ _

Another thing he notices quickly about this part of London is just how much it rains. Or rather, London in general. England in general. It rains a hell of a lot, he discovers, especially when he’s trying to run to Costa on a Thursday morning to get a boost of caffeine after another sleepless night.

He doesn’t own an umbrella. His bike doesn’t protect him from the rain. (He prefers not to cycle on wet roads, anyway.) His hair looks awful when it’s wet. Water seeps into his Converse. Shintarou Midorima throws him a small, black umbrella. He blinks. Once, twice. He has an umbrella in his hand and Midorima is searching for his keys. Unlocking his door. Stepping inside. “T-thank you.”

Shintarou turns, pushes his glasses up his nose. “No problem,” he says. “I don’t want to catch a cold from you.”

Kazunari opens his mouth. Searches for a reply. Licks his lips. “Thanks,” he repeats. He’s not sure what else to say. 

Midorima nods in acknowledgement, and disappears into his flat. Kazunari opens the umbrella and runs to Costa, then runs to his class, only 6 minutes late.

_ _

His friends tell him it’s a sign of affection. He tells them to shut up. He knows full well that it was just a one-off act of kindness, albeit one he never expected from someone like Midorima. Incidentally, he doesn’t see his neighbour at all for an entire week after. 

If it weren’t for the umbrella lying at the bottom of his bag, he would swear it was a dream. He’s not entirely sure it wasn’t.

The next time he sees his fellow student, it’s raining again. This time, Kazunari holds an umbrella in his left hand and a hot coffee in his right, and is walking at a lazy pace in the direction of his flat. Shintarou glances up as he passes Kazunari, mumbling a polite-sounding greeting.

Kazunari is confused. 

He could’ve sworn that the other man hated him. That he was, in Shintarou Midorima’s eyes, an unworthy and inferior being. But now he seems to be an acquaintance. An equal, even.

Whether or not the sentiment is returned is debatable--Kazunari isn’t sure he wants to feel any kind of respect for a dick like Midorima quite yet.

“You’re overthinking it,” his friend says. “The guy’s not all that bad, you know. Maybe you misread him to begin with. Maybe he thought of you as a friend or something all along.”

 _Or maybe not_ , Kazunari wants to say. Although his friend is probably right. Maybe. Possibly. “Who knows,” he sighs, reaching for a beer.

_ _

Shintarou and Kazunari begin to cross paths more frequently after that. They see each other before work, after class, while getting coffee, and Kazunari starts to wonder just who had been avoiding who. He wonder if, perhaps, his friends are right, and then he wonders about a few other things. He realises he doesn’t even know what Midorima studies, where he works, why he moved to England. He knows little more than a name and a face, and thinks that perhaps to hate his neighbour solely due to these things is wrong, and that perhaps he should try to get to know him a little better before he decides he is a complete arsehole after all. 

Which leads him to standing outside Midorima’s door one Friday night, holding an umbrella and two lattes.

The door opens. Shintarou looks about as tired as Kazunari feels, but looks instantly brighter as he sees the coffee in Kazunari’s hand. “Takao,” he says by way of greeting. “What are you doing here?”

“I,” Kazunari begins. “I came to return your umbrella?”

Midorima looks briefly bemused, but opens the door wider, letting Kazunari in. The flat looks pretty much the same as Kazunari’s, if a touch more elegantly decorated. “It was a gift,” he says. “Because you were clearly lacking one. I apologise for the mess, by the way. I was studying.”

“It’s fine, mine’s no better,” Kazunari says awkwardly. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “I brought coffee.”

“Thank you,” Shintarou says, taking one of the paper cups Kazunari has set down on his coffee table and sitting down on a sofa. “So why did you really come up here?”

“Um,” Kazunari says, moving to sit opposite him. “I guess I wanted to properly introduce myself. Since I haven’t, really. Erm, I’m sorry about that.” It’s even more awkward now. Why had he thought this would be a good idea?

“It’s no problem. I suppose I should do the same.”

“Yeah,” Kazunari says, wondering where his usual wit and confidence has gone, and why it always seems to disappear at crucial moments. “Well, I’m Kazunari Takao, Geology student. I’m nineteen, I like video games and nerdy card trading games, I have a part-time job in H+M, and I’m from Tokyo, Japan. Nice to meet you.”

“Shintarou Midorima,” Midorima says. “I’m nineteen too, I study medicine, I like playing chess and shogi, and I’m also from Tokyo, Japan. I work part-time in a bookshop. Nice to meet you, too.”

Some of the awkwardness dissipates, and for some reason, Takao finds himself smiling. “Medicine, huh? Shin-chan’s clever.”

Shintarou raises an eyebrow. “‘Shin-chan’?”

“Nothing like a set of cute nicknames to build a friendship.”

The rest of the awkwardness dissipates as the two of them chat, and Kazunari learns that Shintarou is in England for a very similar reason to his--to study at a prestigious university and to improve his English, as per his parents’ wishes. He also learns that the Midorima family lives remarkably close to the Takao family in Tokyo, although they went to different schools.

He’s surprised at how _nice_ Shintarou seems, in contrast to his previous opinion of him--stuffy and pretentious, yes, but not quite as insufferable as Kazunari had thought.

 _Perhaps_ , Kazunari thinks. _Perhaps being friends or something with this guy wouldn’t be so bad after all._

_ _

When they find themselves meeting up for drinks more and more, neither of them comment on it. When Kazunari finds himself referring to Shintarou as ‘Shin-chan’ more and more, neither of them comment on it. When Shintarou forgets his umbrella on a particularly rainy day and finds himself sharing with Kazunari, neither of them comment on it.

It happens so quickly, and Kazunari feels like he’s in high school all over again.

He can remember all too well the pain and tears of ‘love’, the feeling of dismay upon realising he’s fallen yet again for a straight boy or a girl completely out of his league, and he _feels it_. And it’s ridiculous, because this is a man who only a month or two ago he absolutely _hated_ , and now he’s shuffling through the streets of London under a tiny umbrella _given to him by the man himself_. And he’s calling him by _really gay_ nicknames and marathoning films with him and drinking coffee with him and complaining about work and uni with him and he _can’t believe it_ he can’t _believe_ he’s gone and fallen in love with Shintarou--

He’s fallen in love with Shintarou Midorima, his piano-playing, cat-hating, pretentious neighbour. He’s fallen in love with a nerdy medical student who cries at the ending of _Harry Potter_  and who doesn’t even need to work due to the amount of money his family has yet has a job in Waterstones just because he loves to be surrounded by books and he’s such a _dork_ and Kazunari loves him.

And Kazunari thinks his feelings might not be unrequited.

And he doesn’t know what to do.

_I don’t want to be friends with him, I want the other part, the ‘or something’, the part where ‘it’s a date’ has another meaning, but--_

His friends are telling him that _of course_ Shintarou’s in love with him, it’s clear from the way he looks at him and the way he speaks to him and the way he initiates conversations in a way he wouldn’t--probably _couldn’t_ \--do with other people.

But Kazunari isn’t _sure_.

_ _

It’s raining again. It’s always raining in England. It’s falling hard and fast and Kazunari’s umbrella is threatening to blow inside out. Shintarou is silent beside him, holding a cheap, flimsy umbrella of his own.

Kazunari’s is destroyed with the next gust of wind. He sighs, shuffling under Shintarou’s. He moves closer to the taller man, trying to share some of his heat.

Shintarou looks down at him. “Are you cold?”

“You tell me,” Kazunari shivers.

“Ah,” Shintarou says, and takes one of Kazunari’s hands. “Is that better?”

For a moment, Kazunari can’t say anything. A dangerous mixture of shock and elation slams into him, and it takes a second to find his words. “I,” he starts. “My lips are cold, too.”

And then they’re kissing, and it’s heaven. It’s cold and it’s wet and Shin-chan’s so _tall_ but Shin-chan is also warm and Shin-chan’s lips are warm and Kazunari’s cheeks are warm and it’s _perfect_.

They’re kissing in the rain, and Shintarou’s umbrella is disintegrating above them. “Last time I buy anything in Boots,” he says, and Kazunari laughs. His glasses have gone all steamy, and when he takes them off, there are raindrops clinging to his long, dark eyelashes.

There are raindrops clinging to Shin-chan’s lashes and Kazunari can’t _breathe_.

“Do you--want to get a coffee?” Kazunari asks in between kisses.

“I think,” Shintarou says breathlessly, “I think I’d rather share one with you.”

“It’s a date,” Kazunari replies, and kisses him on the nose.

**Author's Note:**

> i heard uni students don't sleep a lot  
> anyway i wrote this on caffeine it's pretentious and gay and i'm very sorry  
> a few notes: - boots is a pharmacy chain in the uk, sells a hell of a lot of stuff as well as shitty umbrellas  
> \- it rains a lot in england, that's rly not a myth  
> \- costa coffee is a coffee shop chain it's fucking amazing  
> \- in this au, takao and midorima are students at imperial college london, a v good science/maths uni  
> \- they're also rly rich (that's not exactly far from canon tho)  
> \- i haven't even proofread this  
> \- i will now shut up, good night


End file.
